The vicar shook his head.
"I knew he hadn't," said Hank triumphantly.
"If you had," said the young man with severity, "if your ears had ached with, 'Here, Duke, get up and light the fire,' or 'Where's that fool Duke,' or 'Say, Dukey, lend me a chaw of tobacco'—if you had had any of these experiences, would you not"—he tapped the chest of the vicar with solemn emphasis—"would you not pine for a life, and a land where dukes were treated as dukes ought to be treated, where any man saying 'Jukey' can be tried for High Treason, and brought to the rack?"
"By Magna Charta," murmured Hank.
"And the Declaration of Rights," added the Duke indignantly.
The vicar rose, his lips twitching.
"You will not complain of a lack of worship here," he said.
He was a little relieved by the conversation, for he saw behind the extravagance a glimmer of truth, "only please don't shock my people too much," he smiled, as he stood at the door.
"I hope," said the Duke with dignity, "that we shall not shock your people at all. After all, we are gentlefolk."
"We buy our beer by the keg," murmured Hank proudly.